Blame It On The Mistletoe
by Cassie-Black1
Summary: The war is over, Voldemort is defeated, but Hogwarts remains divided. Dumbledore has a plan. What better way to unite the houses than with a Nativity play? Story is AU after OOTP


"Now, before any of you waste your breath with protests or excuses, I may as well tell you that participation is compulsory. Headmaster Dumbledore's orders."

Professor Burbage watched in amusement as the forest of raised, straining arms swiftly dropped to their owner's sides.

Ron slumped back in his chair and turned to Harry, a scowl firmly in place. "The old man's finally lost it," he muttered darkly.

Harry shot his friend a sympathetic grin, which grew broader when the redhead continued.

"What in Merlin's name is an activity play, anyway?"

"Nativity, Ron," Hermione corrected, rolling her eyes ever so slightly.

"'S what I said," Ron replied defensively. "Still don't know what one is, though."

"Honestly." Hermione huffed. "Were you paying attention at all during the last half hour?"

Ron just shrugged, much to her continued exasperation.

"It's a play that is traditionally put on in Muggle schools, just before Christmas. It's basically a retelling of the story of the birth of Jesus. This history behind it is really quite interesting. I read somewhere that…"

Hermione's voice took on it's all too familiar lecture tone, much to her friends' dismay. Harry shot Ron an accusing glare, clearly indicating that he held him responsible for this particular one-woman monologue.

Draco Malfoy had twisted in his seat and was currently smirking at the two Gryffindor boys; just because they had ended up fighting on the same side in the war, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy their discomfort.

Turning back to face his own particular band of friends, Draco tried to block out the incessant drone of Granger's lecturing. _Just stun her already, Potter_, Draco willed. _Put us all out of our misery_. Unfortunately, Harry Potter didn't appear to be particularly receptive to the power of Draco's suggestive thinking.

"Isn't this exciting," Pansy enthused. "I've always secretly wanted to act." She was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, and Draco toyed with the idea of casting a quick Stunner at his friend.

"Pansy," he said slowly. "We are not Hufflepuffs, so do you think you could stop acting like one. Why would anyone in their right mind be excited about this?" Draco gestured distastefully at the script Hannah Abbott had just handed around.

"I just thought it might be fun," Pansy answered quietly, a slight pout on her face.

"So do I," Daphne added, eager to support her friend.

"What? Dressing up and humiliating ourselves in front of the whole of Hogsmeade? Hmm, I can see why you would think that was fun." Draco sneered at his housemates. "We're Slytherins. We have an image to maintain, and it doesn't include participating in some Muggle freak show."

"We don't have a choice, boss," Crabbe grunted. "Said it was compulsory."

Draco gave an impatient toss of his hair. "We'll see what Professor Snape has to say about it. I'm sure he won't want the dignity of our house besmirched in this way."

* * *

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to excuse you Slytherins from this…charade. However, the Headmaster was most insistent on total participation. My hands are tied, Mr Malfoy." Professor Snape looked up from his cauldron, an expression on his face that clearly expressed his feelings about the proposed play.

Draco hopped down off the workbench, a dejected air about him. If his Head of House was unable to get him out of it, then Draco knew that no one could.

"So you couldn't write me a note, or something?"

Snape smiled fondly at his favourite student. "Unfortunately not. Something like that would have to come from your parents, anyway." A spark of hope flared in Draco's eyes, but his professor quashed it with his next words.

"And that is hardly likely to be forthcoming, considering how excited your mother is about seeing her 'baby' on the stage."

Draco blanched. "He invited our parents?"

Snape nodded, amusement now dancing in his eyes.

"And people though Voldemort was evil," Draco muttered. "But my parents won't come, surely? Even if my mother has had enough sherry to think it is a good idea, my father would never agree."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Draco. Your father has made great efforts to rebuild his reputation since the war. He's always on the look out for opportunities such as this. However distasteful he may find them."

"So basically you're saying I'm screwed?"

"Well, I wouldn't have chosen quite those words, but the sentiment is the same, yes."

"I don't know why I didn't just transfer to Durmstrang when Father suggested it."

"Really? I seem to remember that it was because you thought their uniform was unflattering."

Draco coloured a little, but raised his chin defiantly. "Well, it's true. The cut is all wrong, and the fabric…" He paused here and shook his head. "What am I thinking? Look who I'm talking to."

"Be nice, Draco. Or I might have a quiet word in the Headmaster's ear about what a wonderful Virgin Mary you would make. I'm sure the cut of her dress would be to your liking."

"You're a cruel man, Professor."

"Thank you."

* * *

"For goodness sake, Ron, you have to at least read it once. Professor Burbage is going to try us out for parts tomorrow, and if she sees you've made no effort, then you'll probably end up as the donkey."

Ron scowled slightly and lowered the Quidditch magazine he was reading.

"Stop going on about it, Hermione. Why don't you have a go at Harry instead? It's not like he's read it either."

Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh. "Because, at the very least, Harry has a passing knowledge of who Baby Jesus is. You, on the other hand, have no idea."

Ron gave a shrug which clearly said, _and I don't care either. "_Look, Hermione, I haven't read the script because I don't want to be in the play. Since I don't have a choice on that score, I'll settle for a nice, non-speaking part."

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Is it because it's Muggle?" she blurted out finally.

Ron blinked in surprise. "What? Of course not. Why are you acting like this is personal?"

"I'm not, it's just… Alright, the thing is, when I was eight, we did this play at my school and I had my heart set on playing Mary. I learned all the lines and everything. Only they gave the part to Holly James, because she was the pretty, popular girl that everyone loved. I cried for days after that."

"But it's just a play," Ron said, not quite getting the point.

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said it was more than that to her.

* * *

Draco swept into the Slytherin common room, a forbidding expression on his face.

"How did it go, Boss?" Crabbe asked gruffly, not picking up on Draco's mood.

Draco scowled at his friend before flopping down onto the soft, leather sofa, with a soul-deep sigh. He lifted his legs up and lay at full stretch, resting his head in Pansy's lap. Without needing to be told, she began petting his hair.

"Not good," he replied eventually.

Pansy gently brushed a lock of hair back off his forehead. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she suggested tentatively.

"Yeah," Goyle agreed. "It could be kind of fun."

Draco fixed his friend with a patented Malfoy glare. "Fun," he spat.

"Yeah." Goyle nodded, apparently oblivious to Draco's increasing ire. "I thought you'd like this kind of thing, what with you being…" Goyle trailed off here, finally having spotted his friend's expression.

"Being what, Gregory?" Draco asked, his voice dangerously calm. "I do hope that you're not trying to suggest that because I'm gay I should be leaping at the chance to make a fool of myself on stage."

Goyle opened his mouth to speak, but Crabbe gave him a sharp nudge and a warning look, and he thought better of it.

"So Snape couldn't help then?" Pansy asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

"No. Not only is there no way of getting out of this travesty, but Dumbledore has actually invited our parents to witness the humiliation."

"But they won't come," Pansy reasoned. "I remember how pissed they were when Muggle Studies was made compulsory, so I can't see any of our parents lining up to buy tickets to Dumbledore's newest episode of Muggle-loving."

Draco snorted lightly, and nuzzled his head into her touch. "You'd think that would be the case. But Professor Snape seems to think otherwise."

"He actually thinks that your father will come to watch a Nativity play?" Pansy asked incredulously. Normally Slytherins took the word of their Head of House as the word of God, but she thought it sounded like too many brushes with ICrucio/I had finally caught up with him.

"It's all part of Lucius Malfoy's mission of redemption apparently." Draco pushed Pansy's hand away and sat up on the sofa. "He'll never let me live this down. I'm about to have the most humiliating experience of my life, and my father is going to have front row seats.

* * *

It was rather cramped inside the Muggle Studies classroom, as seventh years from all four houses filed in, most reluctantly, to hear the announcement of roles for the Nativity play.

Despite trying to hide it, Hermione was extremely excited. She had confided to Harry earlier that she felt she was a shoe in for the role of Mary. She was, after all, Professor Burbage's favourite pupil.

Neither Ron nor Harry harboured any such grand ambitions. They were both quietly hoping for nothing more than a walk on part in a crowd scene.

Despite Dumbledore's concerted efforts, it was easy to see, looking around the room, just how much the house divisions were still in force. That, if nothing else, had convinced Professor Burbage of the wisdom of the Headmaster's slightly unusual brainwave.

Draco rocked backwards in his chair, balancing uncertainly on two legs. He had a nonchalant expression on his face that belied his inner feelings.

Once resigned to the inevitability of his participation in the play, Draco had been caught by a dilemma. Whilst, ideally, he wanted to remain as invisible as possible during the performance, his position, both as a Malfoy and as de facto leader of Slytherin, demanded he take a much more prominent role.

To this end, he had insisted that all his housemates try out for one of the larger parts; it was unthinkable that Slytherin would be on the sidelines whilst the other houses got their moment in the spotlight.

If his friends were surprised by this complete about face, they knew better than to mention it. They had all learned over the years, that life with Draco Malfoy was much easier if you simply did as he asked. It had been the same with their parents and Lucius, and would doubtless carry on into the next generation.

Draco's chair began to wobble precariously and he had to fight to retain his balance. Turning round glaring, he found Ron Weasley grinning down at him.

"Hoping for a starring role, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled tightly; it wouldn't do to lose his temper and jeopardise his chances.

"Naturally, Weasley. Some of us are born to take the lead, while others of us," he paused here and ran his eyes critically over the other boys form, "were most definitely not."

Ron flushed. "Well I wouldn't get too excited if I were you. I doubt they'll let you Slytherins play the good guys. Though I'm sure there are some smaller, slightly more evil roles you could fill."

"Ron!" Harry Potter was there, tugging at his friend's arm. "Leave it."

"That's alright, Potter. Weasley and I were just discussing the play. I rather think he'll end up as one of the cattle. After all, he has infinitely more experience than the rest of us, when it comes to living in a cow shed."

Predictably, Ron started forward at this. Harry grabbed his friend's arm, and Draco was amused to note that he rolled his eyes at the redhead's behaviour.

Shoving Ron in the direction of Hermione, Harry turned back to face the Slytherins.

"Must you bait him like that?"

"Of course," Draco replied, grinning. "Since you stopped reacting to my amusing, and well-timed ripostes, I have to get my kicks from somewhere. And Weasley is so delightfully predictable."

Harry just shook his head and smiled wryly.

"So what about you, Potter? Any hopes of a leading role?"

"Hardly." Harry almost shuddered at the bare idea.

"It's a shame we can't de-age you for the night," Draco commented thoughtfully. "Who better to play the saviour of Muggle kind, than the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry flinched almost imperceptibly, but the retort that Draco had been hoping for was not forthcoming. He simply nodded at Draco and his friends, and then departed in search of his own seat.

"He's no fun anymore," Pansy whinged.

"No," Draco agreed, watching the retreating Gryffindor. "Nice rear view, though."

An assortment of snorts and splutters sounded from his friends at this. Turning to face them, Draco found himself looking into Blaise's amused eyes.

"Are you aware you just said that out loud?"

Draco shrugged dismissively. "I'm only human," he said defensively. "And that is one hell of an arse."

The boys among his friends spluttered their outrage at this remark, but Pansy and her coterie of Slytherin girls all nodded their agreement.

"He's certainly grown up nicely," she commented approvingly.

"You're all insane," Blaise observed, mildly outraged. "He's Potter, and a Gryffindor. For Merlin's sake, he's _THE _Gryffindor."

"He's fit," Draco replied loftily. "Deal with it."

The entrance of Professor Burbage ended all further debate on Potter's hotness. All eyes in the room were fixed on the scroll of parchment in their professor's hand.

The smaller parts were announced first, and Draco was relived to see that Slytherin made a respectable showing. _Really,_ he reasoned, _you couldn't expect the likes of Crabbe or Goyle not to fuck up any part that required more than a few monosyllabic grunts._

The first real excitement came when Draco's own part was announced - the Angel Gabriel.

Loud guffaws sounded from the Gryffindors, or, more specifically, Ron Weasley.

"Malfoy! An angel? Merlin, that's a laugh." He turned to face the Slytherins. "You're playing a girl's part," he crowed.

Draco simply raised an eyebrow in return. "Weasley, you halfwit, Gabriel is a man's name."

"Course it is, Malfoy. You keep telling yourself that."

"He's right, Ron," Harry commented at this point. "It is a bloke."

Ron looked at his friend disbelievingly and then turned to Hermione for adjudication. At her nod, he slumped back in his chair.

"Spoil my fun, why don't you? Some friends you are."

Draco sat back in his chair, an amused smile quirking the edge of his lips. He couldn't help but appreciate the irony, that he, of all people, had been selected to play a being that encapsulated purity and innocence.

Truth be told, he'd had a sneaking suspicion that something like this would happen; his mother didn't call him 'her little angel' for nothing. His blond locks were just crying out for a halo to sit atop them.

He knew that the role was one of the main characters in the play, and he remembered from the script that it came with a large speaking part. As he mentally ran through the part, an alarming thought occurred to him. His chair slammed down onto all four legs with a loud noise, and those who cared to look, noticed a somewhat horrified expression on his face.

"But there's singing in that role," he protested. "I'm not singing."

Professor Burbage only smiled mildly at him. "Why on earth not, Mr Malfoy? I have it on good authority from Professor Snape that you have an excellent singing voice. 'The voice of an angel' I believe he said."

Sniggers sounded from all parts of the room at this, even Draco's own friends joined in the merriment. Draco flushed and tried to hide his face from the room behind Crabbe's bulky form, all the while plotting the many ways he would exact revenge on his Head of House.

The sniggering continued as Professor Burbage announced Pansy Parkinson as the Virgin Mary. Even her own friends had to smile at the humour of Slytherin's 'friendliest' girl being cast as the chaste female lead.

"Now I know you're having a laugh," Ron scoffed. "I didn't know this was a comedy. How on earth can she play a virgin?"

"Jealous, Weasley?" Pansy enquired, crossing her legs and allowing her robes to fall open, revealing a flash of thigh. "Any time you want a real woman," she paused here and smirked at a glowering Hermione, "you just give me a knock. You never know, I might just make a man out of you."

The faint leer on her face caused Ron to blush slightly, which in turn earned him a sharp dig in the ribs from Hermione, who was still smarting over the loss of her coveted role.

"Stop making a show of yourself," she snapped.

Ron turned to glare at her but made the mistake of catching Pansy's gaze. The Slytherin girl shot him a sly wink and blew a small kiss in his direction.

Ron gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment before turning to whisper furtively in Harry's ear.

"Pansy, please tell me you weren't just coming on to a Weasley?" Despite his words, there was definite amusement in Draco's tones.

"What? So you can ogle Potter's arse like a parched man eyeing a glass of water, but I can't flirt with Ron?"

"That's not the…Hang on, since when was he Ron? Is there something you want to share with me, Pans?"

"Nope," Pansy replied with a toss of her hair. "But when there is, I'll be sure to give you all the gory details."

Draco shuddered in an exaggerated fashion. "I'd rather you didn't. I doubt even my parents could afford the therapy bill that conversation would necessitate."

The parts were dished out thick and fast after that. Not even being made the Narrator, which had easily the most lines in the whole play, could put a smile back on Hermione's petulant face. Harry Potter was made Joseph, and subsequently, Pansy's husband. Much to her delight and his acute discomfort.

"I'll expect full conjugal rights, Potter," she teased, much to the amusement of their classmates.

There was then the somewhat predictable appointment of three Ravenclaw boys as the Wise Men. Followed by, in Draco's opinion, the even more appropriate casting of Hufflepuffs as the simple Shepherds.

Finally, all parts had been announced and Ron was left feeling elated to have, apparently, not been cast in any role. He sank back in his seat, trying to look as invisible as possible, lest anyone should notice the oversight.

"Excuse me, Professor, but you didn't mention Ron at all."

'Bloody Hermione,' Ron cursed mentally; he really needed to look into trading her in for a less high-maintenance friend. Lavender, maybe, or even Pavarti. He tried to subdue the snide voice in his head, which was pointing out that Pansy Parkinson seemed friendly enough.

"Hermione," he snapped quietly, but all he got in return was a smug look. Apparently payback for his earlier flirtation.

"Not even good enough to play a donkey, Weasley. You really must suck." Draco just couldn't help himself.

Ron opened his mouth to retaliate, but Professor Burbage chose that moment to speak.

"I do apologise, Mr Weasley. But don't worry, you certainly do have a role, a most important one. You will be playing King Herod."

"Ha! Up yours, Malfoy. I'd rather be a king, than a poncey angel any day of the week."

"Yes, because playing a baby murdering monarch is just what I was hoping for."

"W-What? Don't talk crap. You're just jealous."

Draco grinned broadly now. "Face it, Weasley. The good professor here has just cast you as the Bible's equivalent of Voldemort."

Ron spluttered in outrage, while the rest of the class let out sharp gasps at the casual reference to You Know Who. All except Harry Potter, who, Draco was amused to note, was grinning right back at him.


End file.
